Never been rescued
by LittleShip
Summary: Hermione's never been rescued. Then again, she's never had to be rescued. Right? Hm...


Hermione was exhausted. Literally EXHAUSTED, in capital letters. Her head drooped involuntarily, nearly banging onto her desk, which was overflowing with stacks and stacks of paperwork.

She forced herself to sit up straight, shaking her head to try and clear the headache that had been plaguing her since...When was it since she'd last slept? Last week? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she needed to keep working.

Her friends depended on her. The Ministry of Magic depended on her. The whole of the wizarding population depended on her. At least, that was what they all said. Hermione no longer had the energy or the will to look into that further.

Her head drooped again. Hermione fought to stay awake, her thin and frail body struggling to stay upright, her bony hands, caked with dry ink, trying, and failing, to grip her quill more tightly.

The quill slipped from her hand and fell onto the table with a clatter. Hermione lost her battle with sleep, falling into the vortex of restless and vivid nightmares.

#####

Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing. It was a chilling sound. "Crucio!" she crackled, evil laughter echoing through the air. Hermione twisted in pain, screaming and screaming until her voice turned hoarse. And yet the torture never stopped.

Worse still were the other Deatheaters. They watched her torture with glee, taunting and jeering at her. Her blood was splattered on the expensive green carpet on the drawing room floor, turning it scarlet. She sobbed, and she screamed, but she never gave in to tell Bellatrix where Harry and Ron were. She would endure this for them. So that one day Voldemort might be defeated. She gritted her teeth. If she died today...She would die knowing that Harry and Ron were safe. She would die knowing that she had done the right thing.

The torture went on, the spells turning more desperate and deadly, making cuts everywhere on her body. Still she refused to surrender. She had to be strong. For Harry. For Ron.

Her entire body shuddered and trembled under the continuous onslaught of spells. She had never thought that a body could hold so much pain without exploding. A sharp pain in her arm made her aware of the word that Bellatrix was magically carving on her arm. "Mudblood" it read. "Yield." she hissed venomously in Hermione's ear. "Never!" Hermione's voice was clear, defiant, with an air of confidence that she did not feel. "Sectumsempra!"Shearing pain emitted from her stomach. And then everything went black.

#####

The war had ended. Voldemort was defeated. Everyone had mourned for those who were killed, and the wizarding world was peaceful once more. Most of the Deatheaters were in Azkaban, where they belonged, and most of the war refugees had found home.

Hermione was ecstatic. Everything was alright at last. Well, not exactly everything. She couldn't help but be a little resentful towards her friends, even though she usually felt guilty afterward and tried to quench the emotion.

Harry married Ginny and seemed to be getting more distant by the minute. He claimed that he needed to recuperate after the war, and refused flat out to do his share of the rebuilding work.

Ron and Lavendar moved to Canada, saying that they had some kind of "plan" there. It was all rather vague, and it had always seemed to Hermione as if they were escaping from their responsibilities here in England.

Ginny had been diagnosed with depression after Fred's death, so she had enough on her plate and couldn't help. She was always crying in her room, or locking herself into the bathroom. Everyone was really worried about her. Hermione kept trying to get her to be more outgoing and loosen up, but she only got snapped and yelled at. Yes, Ginny wasn't at all a pretty sight nowadays. There was screaming and crying and ceaseless demands for attention. Hermione had to give up in the end.

George fared slightly better than Ginny, but he also became rather introverted after his twin brother's passing away.

Luna and Neville had also gotten distant. She only received an owl per month from them.

Her Griffindor friends stared at her blankly when she suggested they help her. The Ravenclaws kept their noses buried in the middle of books, disregarding her completely. The Hufflepuffs profusely refused to help, saying that they were working on their own project and didn't want distractions. The Slytherins laughed and jeered at her, throwing jinxes in her direction.

That left only her to tend to all the rebuilding work. It was difficult and tiring, but she could so it. She had to. Everyone depended on her. She wasn't resentful of her friends, no she wasn't, they were having it just as difficult as she was. Weren't they? Weren't they?

#####

"Mr Malfoy, you have been deemed innocent by the court. You are now free to go."

Draco was deliriously happy. He didn't have to go to Azkaban! He was free! Because he switched to the Light Side in the last crucial moments of the war, throwing Potter his wand and thus allowing Potter to kill You Know Who, the court had decided that he wasn't guilty. At that moment, life couldn't be better.

His heart leaped with joy. He walked with a spring in his step towards the headquarters of the Ministry of Magic, pushing past a mountain of reporters hoping to put his face on the cover of the next newspaper. Funny, two years ago, he would have welcomed the notion of being in the news. He guessed wars could change people.

#####

Fighting to stop his hands from shaking, Draco signed his name in the document. The document that guaranteed him his freedom on the condition that he help with the rebuilding work.

"Now go down that corridor and turn left at the end of it. Ms Hermione Granger's office should be the first room on your right. She's in charge of the rebuilding work, and she'll get you sorted out. My, the poor girl will be glad to have some help, she's been rushing in and out these days looking like a ghost! Must be the workload getting to her." the chatty assistant officer ushered him out of the main building.

#####

Granger. The word tasted like sand paper in his mouth. He remembered how he had pushed Potter and Weasel out of his crazy aunt's incarcerous spell and behind a cupboard, so that they could apparate away. He recalled his shock and horror when he realized that Granger was bound by the spell. Apparently she had apparated in a bit later than the other two.

He had lied smoothly to his aunt, saying that the Golden Duo had apparated out before he could put up the anti-apparation wards. She had cracked evilly. "Don't worry, Draco dear." She giggled. It was a terrifying sound. Draco had to force himself not to reel back in horror at her next words. "I'll find out where they are for you." And then he was forced to watch as Granger was tortured almost to death.

He felt so helpless, watching the green carpet of the drawing room turn crimson—the colour of her blood. Her blood wasn't mud-coloured and disgusting, like he'd been taught to believe. Instead it was red. The same colour as the blood of Purebloods. No. Her blood wasn't the same as that of Purebloods. No, it wasn't. It was purer than any Pureblood's. He watched as she twisted and screamed in pain, never giving up even the tiniest bit of information. She was a warrior at that moment. Unyielding, brave, self-sacrificing.

He shivered helplessly, miserably. He had condemned the person who deserved to live the most to an almost certain death. It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing himself over his aunt and curcio-ing her himself. It took all of his self-control to keep an uncaring mask, to keep from screaming at her to stop.

He had never killed or tortured anyone of his own accord.

Then again, he had never understood why he had been affected that deeply when she had been tortured.

He still has nightmares about that night. He still wishes that he could have saved her. And he still feels helpless, every time he is forced to relieve that night in his dreams. He still wakes up in tears, every time he manages to fall asleep.


End file.
